Monday, 21 September 2026
SERMON 240 - SUNDAY 20 AUGUST 2026 - TRINITY 16
Sermon at All Saints’ Parish Church, Winterslow – 16th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 20th September 2026
Jonah 3:10-4:11; Philippians
1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
A good few years ago, a fellow member of
this congregation and I went to the Bournemouth International Centre to see the
“Pub Landlord”, otherwise known as Al Murray, muse on life in general in his
persona as the satirical, right-winger including his thoughts on the French and
on religion. Included in his musings was his thoughts on some of the parables
and teachings of Jesus and, in particular, the apparent unfairness of two of
the teachings in particular – the parable of the talents and the one we heard
today – the parable of the vineyard workers.
He questioned why Jesus was teaching what appeared to be a policy of
total unfairness to others and what was the purpose of such teaching.
Well, you probably know that far from being
the uncouth right-wing publican he portrays on stage, Al Murray is in fact a
well-educated modern history graduate of Oxford University and I am sure really
knew the answer to the questions which he posed to his audience, but it got me
to thinking how well do we, those of us who attend church regularly, understand
the messages contained in some of Jeus’s parables. How often do we misunderstand what scripture
is telling us? How often do we mistake grace for unfairness? For it is indeed grace which we are being
taught and our readings this morning emphasise how our human condition can lead
us to not understand the heavenly condition.
Starting
with our Gospel Reading this morning, like the “Pub Landlord” we immediately
think that if someone has worked for eight hours, we expect them to receive
more than someone who has worked for one hour. If someone has stood patiently
in a queue for a theatre ticket, we don't expect somebody who has just arrived
to walk straight to the front. If we have worked hard for something, we quite
naturally believe that we deserve the reward. In effect We are brought up with
the principle that effort should be rewarded and that people should receive
what they deserve. And, in many circumstances, that is perfectly
reasonable. Today's Gospel presents us
with a story which challenges that instinct very deeply.
Jesus
tells us about a landowner who goes out early in the morning to hire workers
for his vineyard. He agrees with the first group to pay them the usual daily
wage. Later in the morning he finds more workers, then more at noon, and again
in the afternoon. Finally, even at the eleventh hour, he finds men who have
been standing idle and sends them into his vineyard. At the end of the day, the workers are paid.
And here
is where the story becomes uncomfortable. Those who worked only one hour
receive the same amount as those who have worked all day. Immediately, our
sense of fairness begins to protest. We can almost hear the workers who have
been there since dawn saying: “That's not fair!” And, on the face of it,
we probably agree with them. They have worked through the heat of the day. They
have given up their time and energy. They have done what was asked of them.
Surely, they deserve more than those who have worked for only an hour?
Yet the
landowner replies: “Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with
me for the usual daily wage?” The
issue, Jesus tells us, is not that the landowner has been unfair. The issue is
that the workers have allowed someone else's generosity to make them
dissatisfied with what they themselves have received. They were perfectly
content with their wages—until they discovered that somebody else had received
the same. And there is a profound lesson here for us.
We can
be quite happy with what we have until we discover that someone else has
received more. We compare salaries, possessions, opportunities, recognition and
achievements. We compare our lives with those of other people. My father, for
example, I remember being quite bitter when he was passed over for promotion at
work.
And
sometimes we even compare God's grace.
We may
unconsciously think:
“I have
been a Christian for many years. I have attended church faithfully. I have
tried to live a good life. Surely, I have earned a greater place in God's
kingdom than someone who only turned to God at the end of their life.”
But that
is not how grace works. Grace cannot be earned. Grace is, by definition, a
gift. God does not give us his love
because we have accumulated enough points, performed enough good deeds or
served him for a sufficient number of years.
God gives because God is generous.
That is
precisely the point Jesus is making in this parable.
The
workers who arrived at the eleventh hour were not rewarded because they had
worked hard enough. They were rewarded because the landowner chose to be
generous. And that is what makes the Gospel both challenging and wonderfully
reassuring. If God's grace depended entirely upon what we deserved, none of us
could stand confidently before him. God's grace is greater than our deserving.
Our
first reading this morning, from the end of the Book of Jonah, gives us another
striking example. Jonah has been preaching to the people of Ninevah and warned
them that their city will be destroyed because of their intense wickedness. As
a result, the people repent and thereby God chooses not to destroy the city.
You would have thought that Jonah would have been delighted that his preaching
had been well listened to but instead, Jonah is angry. He thinks that God has
been too merciful. Jonah
wanted justice according to his understanding of justice. He wanted Nineveh to
receive what he believed it deserved.
But
God wanted something different. God wanted the people of Nineveh to turn away
from evil and live. Jonah's problem is remarkably similar to that of the
workers in the vineyard. Both are unhappy because God is generous to people
whom they believe do not deserve it. Jonah effectively says, “I knew you
would do this!” He knows God's character. He knows that God is gracious and
merciful. But he doesn't like it when that grace is extended to the people he
considers unworthy. And perhaps that is one of the most uncomfortable
questions these readings put before us:
Are we
happy that God is gracious—or only when he is gracious to people whom we think
deserve it?
It is easy to
rejoice when someone we love receives God's mercy. It is much harder when the
person receiving it is somebody who has hurt us, disappointed us, rejected us
or, in our judgment, behaved badly. Only
last week, I spoke to somebody about a family member whose behaviour has hurt
me and my family badly, somebody I find it hard to forgive or have any
relationship with. I was challenged by their response about having compassion
for them.
Yet
God says to Jonah, in effect: “Should I not have compassion?” That is the heart
of the matter. God's concern is not simply about giving people what they
deserve. God's desire is that people should turn, be restored and live.
This brings
us to the saying with which Jesus concludes the parable:
“So, the
last will be first, and the first will be last.”
Jesus is not
simply talking about the order in which people are paid.
He is
overturning an entire way of thinking. Human society tends to arrange people
according to status. We have leaders and followers, successful people and
unsuccessful people, rich and poor, powerful and powerless, important and
apparently insignificant. We naturally place people in categories.
But the
Kingdom of God does not operate according to those human rankings.
In God's
Kingdom, the person who appears insignificant to the world may be enormously
significant to God. As we have already seen, the person who arrives late may
receive the same grace as the person who has been there from the beginning. The
sinner who repents may be welcomed with the same love as the person who has
faithfully followed God for decades. The person whom society has placed at the
back of the queue may be brought to the front.
This is why
Jesus emphasises that the first will become last and the last first.
It is a
warning against spiritual pride. We must never assume that because we have been
Christians for many years, or because we have served the Church faithfully, we
have somehow earned a greater claim upon God's love.
And equally,
it is a message of hope. If you feel that you are last—if you feel that you
have failed, that you have wasted opportunities, that you have come late to
faith, or that your past separates you from God—Jesus says that you are not
beyond the reach of grace. There is no “too late” with God. The eleventh-hour
workers are still invited into the vineyard.
In
Philippians, Paul writes about his own situation. He says:
“For
to me, living is Christ and dying is gain.”
Paul's
whole perspective has been transformed by his relationship with Christ. His
life is no longer centred upon himself. His purpose is Christ.
Paul has
learned something that the workers in the vineyard struggled to understand: the
Christian life is not fundamentally about calculating what we deserve. It is
about responding to what God has already given us.
We do not
follow Christ because we have negotiated a better deal with God. We follow
Christ because we have encountered grace. And grace changes how we see other
people and changes our definition of justice to extend it to incorporate mercy
for God sees the whole person, he sees what we cannot see – the possibility of
repentance. God’s mercy doesn’t replace justice – it reveals a deeper purpose –
to restore, redeem and bring people home.
So perhaps
there are three questions we should take away from these readings.
First:
Can we
accept God's grace when it is given to somebody we believe does not deserve it?
Second:
Can we
stop measuring God's generosity by comparing what we receive with what somebody
else receives?
And third:
Are we
prepared to accept that God's Kingdom may reverse the priorities of our world?
The great
comfort of the Gospel is that God's grace is not limited by our deserving. And
the great challenge is that neither can we place limits upon whom God chooses
to love.
The landowner
says: “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs
to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?”
That question
reaches across the centuries and comes directly to us. God is generous. God is
merciful. God welcomes the repentant. God's love is not a prize to be earned by
those who have worked the longest.
It is a gift
offered to all.
And perhaps
the greatest sign that we have understood the Gospel is not simply that we are
grateful for God's grace towards ourselves, but that we can rejoice when God's
grace is extended to others.
For in the
Kingdom of God, there is no place for spiritual superiority.
There is only
gratitude.
There is only
grace.
And there is
always room in the vineyard.
And so, in conclusion, let us say the Grace together :
“May the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the
Fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all, now and for evermore”
Amen MFB/240/19092026
Sunday, 16 August 2026
SERMON 239 - SUNDAY 16 AUGUST 2026 - TRINITY 11
Sermon at St. Mary’s Parish Church, West Dean – 11th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 9th August 2026
Psalm 46
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
In a similar
way to last week’s readings from Isaiah (Elijah’s calling out of despair) and
Matthew’s description of Jesus walking on water to comfort the disciples, Psalm
46 is another piece of scripture to inspire confidence and reassurance. It
speaks to us in a world where life can sometimes feel uncertain, frightening
and beyond our control. Its central message is simple but profound: God is
our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
The
historical background and context to this psalm is that the author is writing
about Jerusalem following it having been shaken by a severe earthquake, and his
reference to a river flowing through the centre of the shaken city in verse 4
is a metaphorical reference to God’s continued life and presence, His continuity
through the turmoil and destruction of all around Him and us.
The psalm
begins, therefore, not by pretending that trouble does not exist, but by
acknowledging that it does. The earth may give way, the mountains may fall into
the sea, and the waters may roar and foam. These are powerful images of chaos
and instability and of the earthquake itself. They remind us that there will be
times when the things we normally depend upon seem to be collapsing around
us. It’s very much a psalm for today.
Yet the
psalmist says, “Therefore we will not fear.”
That is a
remarkable statement. It does not mean that there is nothing to fear. Rather,
it means that fear does not have the final word. Our confidence rests not in
the circumstances around us, but in God who remains with us through them.
How often do
we find ourselves worrying about things that we cannot control? We can become
anxious about the future, about our families, our health, our finances, our
work or the state of the world. We’ve experienced all sorts of troubles in our
lives – we’ve lost our car keys, we’ve fallen disastrously in love with the
wrong person, we’ve flooded the kitchen, we’ve had health problems, our
children have been a challenge and so on and so on, but above all this, we are
still here and alive and so is Jesus and God is still bearing us up. Sometimes, though, circumstances can seem so
incredibly overwhelming that we still wonder where God is.
Psalm 46
gives us a very straight-forward answer: God is with us.
The psalmist declares,
“The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” The
repetition is important. God is not a distant observer who watches from afar.
He is our refuge. He is present in the midst of our difficulties.
There is also
a beautiful contrast in the psalm between the noise and turmoil of the world
and the quiet presence of God. In the middle of all the upheaval comes the
command:
“Be still,
and know that I am God.”
Perhaps these
are some of the most challenging words in Scripture for us today. We live in a
world that rarely seems still. There is always another message, another piece
of news, another problem demanding our attention. Even when we are physically
quiet, our minds can remain busy with worry.
I know that this seems to be my life – always somewhere to go, something
to do, someone to see, bins to take out, a sermon to write and the general
busyness of just living.
To “be still”
does not necessarily mean that our problems will disappear. It means that, for
a moment, we stop struggling to control everything ourselves and remember who
God is.
It is an
invitation to trust Him. That is the
essence of Faith, to believe and trust.
When we are
still before God, we can remind ourselves that we are not alone. We do not have
to understand everything that is happening. We do not have to know what
tomorrow will bring. We simply need to place ourselves into the hands of the
God who does.
Whenever I
look up at the heavens, and this week I have been doing a lot of that with a
solar eclipse and the Perseid meteor shower, despite having much scientific
knowledge of the cosmos, the one fundamental aspect I can never get out of my
head is the awesomeness of God as Creator and the smallness of us as
individuals on this little planet. It is those moments of stillness and calm,
looking up at the heavens, that I can often feel the closeness of God.
The psalm
also reminds us that God is not merely our refuge in private troubles. He is
the God who brings peace into the world: “He makes wars cease to the end of
the earth.” This gives the psalm a wider vision. Our faith is not simply
about finding personal comfort. We are called to trust in the God who desires
peace, reconciliation and restoration for all creation.
For
Christians, this confidence finds its fullest expression in Jesus Christ. Jesus
does not promise His followers a life without storms, as we saw last week, but
He promises His presence in the storm. Just as the disciples discovered when
the waters threatened their boat, faith does not mean that the waves will never
rise. It means that Christ is with us when they do.
Psalm 46
therefore invites us to change our perspective. When life feels secure, it is
easy to believe that we are in control. But when the mountains seem to shake
and the waters roar, we discover where our true security lies.
Our security
is not ultimately in possessions, circumstances, other people, or even in our
own strength.
Our
security is in God.
So when we
are troubled, let us remember: God is our refuge. When we are weak, He is our
strength. When we are afraid, He is with us. And when we do not know what to
do, we can be still, place our trust in Him, and remember that He is God.
The final
message of Psalm 46 is therefore one of hope:
Whatever
storms may come, God remains faithful. Whatever changes around us, He remains
our refuge. And whatever tomorrow may bring, we need not face it alone.
“Be still,
and know that I am God.”
Let us
pray
God of Jacob
When the earth shakes
And the nations are in uproar
Speak, and let the storm be still,
Through Jesus Christ our Lord
Amen MFB/239/14082026
Monday, 10 August 2026
SERMON 238 - SUNDAY 9 AUGUST 2026 - TRINITY 10
Sermon at St. Laurence’s Church Parish Church, Downton – 10th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 9th August 2026
1 Kings 19:9-18; Matthew 14:22-33,
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
"Keep
Your Eyes on Christ"
Both of our
readings today speak directly to anyone who has ever felt overwhelmed by fear,
uncertainty, or despair. They remind us that faith is not the absence of
difficulties; it is the confidence that God is with us in the midst of them.
During the
course of my own life, there have been numerous times when things seem to be
overcoming me and I’m not in control – from the anxiety of taking academic
exams through to romantic rejections, difficult job interviews, career
opportunities missed, financial matrimonial difficulties and even my calling to
ministry. It’s a rare person indeed who has gone through life without
difficulties along the way. So too, for our biblical characters, Elijah and
Peter, in our readings this morning.
In our first
reading from 1 Kings, we meet the prophet Elijah at one of the lowest
points in his life. Only a short time earlier, he had experienced a great
victory over the prophets of Baal – you’ll remember, the great “BBQ Contest”.
Yet now, because Queen Jezebel has threatened his life, he flees into the
wilderness. He is exhausted, frightened, and ready to give up. He believes he
is alone, abandoned, and that all his efforts have been in vain.
God's
response is not to overwhelm Elijah with displays of power as he might have
expected. Yahweh is not found in the mighty wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in
the fire. Instead, God comes in the sound of a gentle whisper—a still, small
voice. It’s in that quiet encounter that Elijah discovers that God has never
abandoned him. The Lord reassures him, gives him a new mission, and reminds him
that there are still seven thousand faithful people in Israel. Elijah's own
fears had clouded his vision, but God's gentle presence restored his hope. Have often, do our own fears cloud our vision
such that we cannot think straight or logically? Tasks seem insurmountable and we either give
up or flee?
Our Gospel
reading presents us with a similar lesson. The disciples are battling strong
winds on the Sea of Galilee. The waves are high, and they are afraid. Then
Jesus comes to them, walking on the water, saying those comforting words:
"Take courage; it is I. Do not be afraid."
Peter
responds with remarkable faith. At the invitation of Jesus, he steps out of the
boat and actually walks on the water. As long as his eyes remain fixed on
Christ, he does the impossible. But then Peter notices the strength of the
wind. He looks away from Jesus and focuses instead on the danger beneath his
feet. Fear replaces faith, and he begins to sink.
Again, isn't
that often our own story?
When life is
calm, trusting God can seem easy. But when illness strikes, relationships break
down, finances become uncertain, or grief enters our lives, it is easy to
become like Elijah hiding in the cave or Peter sinking beneath the waves. We
begin to focus on the storm rather than on the Saviour. We look at the size of
our problems instead of the greatness of our God.
So, in both
readings, the message is the same: God does not abandon his people.
He comes to
Elijah in quiet reassurance.
He comes to
Peter with an outstretched hand.
And he comes
to us with that same promise.
Faith does
not mean we will never encounter storms. The Christian life has never been a
promise of an easy journey. Rather, it is the assurance that Christ is in the
boat with us, or, when we feel we are drowning, that he reaches out to grasp
our hand before we are lost. I am sure
you all know the story of the footprints in the sand, that at the time there
only appeared to be one set of footprints it was when Jesus was carrying us,
not simply walking alongside us.
Peter's
mistake was not that he stepped out of the boat. In fact, his courage was
extraordinary. His mistake was allowing fear to become greater than his trust
in Jesus. The moment his attention shifted from Christ to the storm, he lost
confidence and began to sink.
The same
temptation faces us every day. The world constantly invites us to focus on
anxiety, uncertainty, failure, and fear. Indeed, much of modern social media
seems designed to appeal to our fearful natures. But the Gospel calls us to fix
our eyes on Christ. As Paul reminds us elsewhere, "We walk by faith, not
by sight." Faith sees beyond present circumstances to the God for whom nothing
is impossible.
That does not
mean every difficulty ahead will disappear. Elijah still had work to do. The
disciples still had to cross the lake. We too must continue our own journeys
with their challenges and crosses. But with Christ beside us, and sometimes
carrying us, those challenges no longer have the final word.
When we
listen for God's gentle voice in prayer, when we receive Christ in the
Eucharist, when we trust him even when we cannot see the way ahead, we discover
that his grace is always sufficient. He strengthens us, guides us, and carries
us when our own strength fails.
Perhaps today
some of us feel like Elijah—discouraged and wondering whether we can go on.
Others may feel like Peter—overwhelmed by the storms of life and beginning to
sink under the weight of fear. The Lord speaks to each of us today with the
same words of hope: "Do not be afraid."
Let us ask
for the grace to keep our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. For when we trust in him,
the impossible becomes possible. When we place our lives in his hands, fear
gives way to peace, despair gives way to hope, and weakness is transformed by
his strength.
May we always
remember that no storm is greater than our Saviour, no darkness can overcome
his light, and no difficulty is beyond the reach of his saving hand. If we
remain close to him, listening for his voice and trusting in his presence,
then, whatever trials come our way, we too will discover the truth of God's
promise: with him, all things are possible.
Let us pray :
Heavenly
Father, when fear overwhelms us and the storms of life seem too great to bear,
help us to hear your gentle voice as Elijah did, reminding us that you are
always with us.
When, like
Peter, we take our eyes from Jesus and begin to sink beneath the weight of
doubt and uncertainty, stretch out your hand to us. Strengthen our faith, renew
our hope, and teach us to trust you completely.
Grant us
the courage to believe that with you all things are possible, even when the
path before us seems impossible to walk. Help us to fix our eyes always upon
Christ, knowing that his love is stronger than our fears, his power greater
than our weakness, and his presence our constant refuge.
May we
leave this place today with hearts full of faith, confident that you go before
us, walk beside us, and hold us safely in your everlasting arms.
We ask
this through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen MFB/238/06082026
Monday, 20 July 2026
SERMON 237 - SUNDAY 19 JULY 2026 - TRINITY 7 / RURAL COMMUNITIES CELEBRATION
Sermon at All Saints’s Church Parish Church, Whiteparish – 7th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 19th July 2026
Ruth 2:4-12; Matthew 5:14-16,
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
[This Sermon is split
into to 2 short homilies or reflections – one on each of the readings as part
of the Celebration of Rural Community Sunday in praise of all those who provide
a Christian presence in the village of Whiteparish].
Ruth 2:4-12
This passage from the wonderful Old Testament
story of Ruth was chosen specifically for today’s service because it has a
rural theme and beautifully illustrates a healthy rural community. It is particularly appropriate as we are now,
here in rural Wiltshire, in the middle of an early harvest with the air full of
the dust from the combine harvesters as they gather up the cereal grains. We can so easily, therefore, take ourselves
back to those days described in the Old Testament passage in rural Bethlehem at
the beginning of the barley harvest.
However, first, a quick reminder of where
this passage fits in with the whole story of Ruth. Naomi, together with her
husband and two sons living in Bethlehem, had left that rural town a number of
years earlier, when the land was struck with a terrible famine, and went to
Moab. Whilst there, her two sons married
Moabite women but both the sons and her husband died there in Moab. Naomi decided to return to her homeland and
home town of Bethlehem taking with her, one of her Moabite daughters-in-law,
Ruth (the other daughter-in-law stayed in Moab). Ruth, not being a Jew, was therefore an
alien, a foreigner, a stranger back in Bethlehem.
We learn that Naomi had a kinsman, Boaz, in
Bethlehem who took pity and compassion on her and Ruth and gave strict
instructions to his workers to let the women glean from his field and not to
molest the women – giving them opportunity not only to glean barley for their
own needs but a bit extra to sell and have a comfortable lifestyle whilst under
his protection. As we know, later on,
Boaz married Ruth, had children and in due course their descendants were Kind
David and through Joseph, Jesus.
The moral for us today is that we should
notice vulnerable newcomers into our community and make them feel welcome.
Recently, for example, I know that here, and in several other villages in our
Deanery, we have welcomed many Ukrainian families to share with us in our
homes, meals and churches. You have shown true Christian hospitality. It also reminds us to care for and protect
others behind the scenes who work untiringly and often “unsung” to provide that
welcome and protection. The story of Ruth
is a lesson and a blessing to all, especially in these smaller communities, and
I heartily recommend you read the whole book – it’s only 4 chapters! There are
so many examples of humility, love and compassion to be found there.
Matthew 5:14-16
Following on from my short homily on Ruth,
our gospel reading this morning takes the theme of goodness and hospitality
further. In this passage, which is part of His great Sermon on the Mount, Jesus
is telling the Crowds attending that as followers of Him they are “the light
of the world”. This pronouncement is
coupled, in the same section of the Sermon as his proclamation that they are
also “salt of the earth” meaning, in metaphor, that they give taste to
an otherwise bland and tasteless world.
This reading, therefore, directly underpins
the theme of our previous two readings reminding us that small, local acts of
goodness, such as hospitality and friendliness towards others, especially those
who are different from ourselves, have an immense, illuminating impact on rural
life.
When I first thought of moving into the rural
environment of Winterslow in 1999, after living in Brighton, London, Liverpool
and being brought up in a large northern town, I was struck by the wonderful
friendliness of those in the village and especially in the church – so much so
that I still live in rural Wiltshire some 27 years on and have no intention of
leaving. I have experienced much salt
and light from those church communities here in our Deanery.
I would like to share one thought, though,
which I had, when I first read those words in Jesus’s sermon – how do we
actually shine that light out? What is
it that we must do? At the time I first came to Wiltshire my own life was in a
state of brokenness and change; and during my time here there have been many
occasions when I have felt broken and not able to shine out any light.
Then I went to the Christian conference
(Spring Harvest) where this topic was discussed. It was as though Jesus himself
was talking to me. From memory the speaker was Jeff Lucas, who wrote a
wonderful book entitled “There are no Strong People” who reminded us
that most of us, especially Christians, are broken or, as he put it, we are
like “cracked pots” – not “crack pots” I hastened to add although sometimes I’m
not so sure. But, if we have the light of Christ within us, if we have what Jesus
called the light of the world then even though we feel unworthy or unholy or
whatever, that light will still shine through those cracks and sometimes,
because we are cracked, the light will shine through those narrow cracks with
even more intensity. By following Jesus we can shine that light by the way we
act, speak and treat others in our community and the world at large.
Amen MFB/237/16072026
Monday, 13 July 2026
SERMON 236 - SUNDAY 12 JULY 2026 - TRINITY 6
Sermon at St. Mary’s Church Parish Church, West Dean – 6th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 12th July 2026
Isaiah 55:10-13; Romans 8:1-11;
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
I was delighted when I
realised that the Gospel Reading today was one which Liz and I have recently
finished studying, at some great length, in our local house group. The in-depth study which we did led me to realise
there was so much more to this parable, which I have heard so many times
before, going back as far as school assemblies in the 1960s! Today, I can only really scratch the surface
of some of the revelations which I discovered during our study but will try and
do so, as much as I can, in the short time available this morning. The biggest
revelation for me was that there was never any question of the seed that is
being sown in the parable being bad, only the way in which it is received. For Liz, one of the revelations was that we
needed to buy a second composter!
Joking aside, the three readings today give
us one beautiful image: God is always sowing life. He is never stingy with his
grace. Like the rain in Isaiah, like the Spirit in Romans, like the Sower in
the Gospel, God keeps giving, keeps calling, keeps planting, even when the
results seem uncertain.
Isaiah tells
us that just as rain and snow fall upon the earth and do not return without
making it fruitful, so God's word never returns to him empty. It always
accomplishes his purpose. Sometimes we expect God's word to work instantly, but
God often works quietly, patiently, beneath the surface. Seeds take time to
germinate, and so too does Faith. Often, we use the phrase “Rome wasn’t built
in a day”; it grew over a period of time and so too does our Faith. In fact, it never stops growing. Just as my
studies in astronomy often lead me to more questions than answers about the
cosmos, so too does our study of scripture.
But, back to
the Sower. In our Gospel message, he
scatters seed everywhere. From a human perspective, it almost seems wasteful.
Seed falls on the path, among rocks, into thorns, and only some on good soil.
But this is precisely how God loves. He does not ration his grace to those who
seem most deserving. He offers his word to everyone.
Earlier I
stated, quite categorically, that the seed being sown in the parable was not
bad. But, how do we know
whether the seed is good seed?
The answer
is surprisingly simple. The seed in the parable is the Word of God, and God's
word always bears the marks of its divine origin. Good seed draws us toward
Christ. It deepens faith, awakens hope, and enlarges love. It leads to
forgiveness rather than resentment, humility rather than pride, generosity
rather than selfishness. Good seed may challenge us, even unsettle us, but it
never leads us away from God or diminishes the dignity of others. As Paul
reminds us in Romans, the Spirit gives life and peace. If what we receive draws
us toward the life of the Spirit, we can trust that it is good seed. Anything in our lives, any seeds which are
sown which do not produce these characteristics is bad seed, or weeds, which
Jesus deals with in another parable. We
should, therefore, always be on our guard against those people and institutions
which would seek to sow weeds into our lives. We need to pray for discernment.
But perhaps
the more searching question is: How
do we know whether we are good soil?
The parable
is not about labelling ourselves once and for all, as I once thought. The
condition of the soil can change. A hardened path can be broken open. Rocky
ground can be cleared. Thorns can be pulled out. Good soil is not perfect soil;
it is receptive soil.
We become
good soil when we are willing to listen. Jesus ends the parable by saying,
"Let anyone with ears listen." Listening is more than hearing. It
means allowing God's word to sink beneath the surface of our lives. It means praying
with Scripture instead of merely reading it. It means letting God's word
question us before we question it. How
is our spiritual life? What areas of our life are susceptible to weeds, or
stones, or dryness? What do we need to do to prepare the ground. Do we need a new composter?
Good soil is
also honest soil. We need to recognize the rocks that prevent deep roots—old
wounds, fears, pride, or habits that keep us from trusting God. We identify the
thorns that choke growth—the anxieties, distractions, ambitions, and endless
busyness that crowd out prayer and charity. Every examination of conscience is,
in a sense, an examination of the soil.
This is
where Paul's words in Romans become such good news. Left to ourselves, we
cannot make ourselves fruitful. But "the Spirit of God dwells in
you." The same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is at work within us,
cultivating the soil of our hearts. Christianity is not simply about trying
harder; it is about allowing the Holy Spirit to transform us from within.
That is why
the readings this morning fit together so beautifully. Isaiah reminds us that
God's word is effective. The Gospel tells us that God's word is generously
sown. Romans tells us that God's Spirit enables us to receive that word and
bear fruit.
Perhaps the
greatest comfort in this parable is that Jesus never tells us to judge someone
else's soil. He invites each of us to tend our own heart. Every day, God
scatters fresh seed. Every day, the Spirit can soften what has become hard,
remove what has become crowded, and deepen what has become shallow.
The measure
of good soil is not how impressive we appear, but whether God's word is
producing fruit in us: greater patience, deeper compassion, stronger faith,
more generous love, and a growing resemblance to Christ.
May we ask
today for two graces: the wisdom to recognize the good seed that God
continually sows through his Word, the sacraments, and the witness of faithful
people; and the humility to let the Holy Spirit prepare our hearts to receive
it.
Then
Isaiah's promise will become our own: the word God plants within us will not
return empty, but will bear fruit—thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold—for the life
of the world.
Amen MFB/236/10072026
Monday, 18 May 2026
SERMON 235 - THURSDAY 14 MAY 2026 - ASCENSION DAY
Sermon at Pepperbox Hill, Whiteparish, Wiltshire – Ascension Day - Thursday 14th May 2026
Acts 1:4-11
Our passage of scripture, this morning, is
well familiar to most of us and I have often wondered what reaction I might
have had in witnessing this event, as the Apostles did. The narrative presents
a powerful moment of transition, hope, and promise. Jesus, after His
resurrection, has gathered together His disciples and prepared them for His
departure. Although the disciples are understandably uncertain and still
focused on earthly expectations, Jesus redirects their attention toward God’s
greater plan. Rather than remaining physically with them, He promises that they
will receive the Holy Spirit, who will guide, strengthen, and empower them. The
Ascension is therefore not a moment of abandonment, but one of hope.
At first glance, the disciples must have felt grief
and loss as they watched Jesus ascend into heaven. For years they had walked
beside Him, listened to His teaching, and relied on His presence. They had been
his apprentices, often getting things wrong but with the Master always there to
correct them and help them out. Now they thought they were about to be left
alone and the suddenness of this must have left them feeling quite anxious and
fearful. Yet Jesus reminds them that
His leaving is necessary because the Holy Spirit will come upon them. This
promise transforms their fear into expectation. They are not being left alone;
instead, God’s presence will remain with them in a new and deeper way. The Holy
Spirit becomes a source of comfort, wisdom, courage, and faith for all believers.
The passage also highlights the mission that
Jesus gives His followers. He tells them they will be His witnesses “in
Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
This calling brings hope because it shows that God’s salvation is not just limited
to one group of people, but is meant for the whole wide world. The disciples,
ordinary people with doubts and weaknesses like us, are entrusted with sharing
the message of Christ. Through the Holy Spirit, they are being equipped to
carry out this mission. This reminds Christians today, like us, that God still
works through imperfect people to bring light and hope to others.
A further important message in this passage is
the promise of Christ’s return. As the disciples stand looking into the sky,
the angels tell them that Jesus “will come back in the same way” they
saw Him go into heaven. This promise gives us, and all believers lasting hope.
The Ascension is not the end of the story. Christians now live with the
assurance that Jesus reigns in heaven and will one day return to restore all
things. In times of suffering, uncertainty, or waiting, this promise encourages
believers to remain faithful and hopeful despite so many pressures from
elsewhere in our daily lives. It is
something which we can all cling onto as we live through these times of this chaos
and uncertainty in an unstable world.
The Ascension teaches that hope is found not
only in what Jesus has done, but also in what He continues to do through the
Holy Spirit and what He will do when He comes again. Even though Jesus is no
longer physically present on earth, His Spirit remains active among His people.
Christians are called to live with confidence, trusting that they are never
abandoned and that God’s promises are true and secure. In Hebrews 13:5 we are once more reminded of
God’s words in Deuteronomy 31:6 – “Never will I leave you, never will I
forsake you”
This passage is filled with encouragement.
Jesus leaves His followers with purpose, power, and promise. The Holy Spirit
sustains believers in the present, while the hope of Christ’s return points
toward the future. The Ascension therefore becomes not a farewell marked by
sadness, but a message of enduring hope for all Christians.
Amen. MFB/235/13052026